


five senses that died with iwaizumi hajime and one that didnt

by sportsanime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Cancer, coming back two years later to add tags, five senses, holy shit guys i cant believe i wrote this when i was 12, inspired by a story I read on here long ago, like...im proud, twelve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sportsanime/pseuds/sportsanime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru visits his best friend's graveyard. It smells bittersweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five senses that died with iwaizumi hajime and one that didnt

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I looked back on this story and it made me cringe, so I edited it. Can't believe it's almost been a year since I wrote it! Just a quick note: I do enjoy some of the lines in this fic and constantly reread them. Shit, man: "That's what they see so they can't be wrong. Dogs see in shades of grey, Oikawa Tooru sees in shades of grey too." That's deep. Deep.

I. Scent

It smells like a mix, a mix of regret, of sadness, of lost memories, and Oikawa Tooru is tempted to back out because he can't do this, he can't look for the grave that has his best friend's name on it, because Oikawa himself is not dead, and in the scenario that he is alive, he will not be able to deal with the pain that comes with knowing that Hajime is dead.

He might as well be.

It is not an easy thing to wake up to the scent of your best friend and maybe your lover, to reach out only to find that he is not there, and he will never be there, not ever again, because everyone takes Iwaizumi Hajime away at some point.

This time, it was death. Death fell for Hajime, embracing him in its unwelcoming arms. 

It is a sad thing, to die of a disease no one has heard of, and it is a sad thing to hear those small "he died peacefully”s from people who hardly knew him; people who hardly cared.

(Iwaizumi Hajime did not die peacefully. Oikawa watched him writhe, and yelp, and the two men who usually keep their emotions steady cried together.  
It was not peaceful).

Even in Hajime's last moments, he smelled like the chocolates Oikawa bought for him so many years ago with a bow and an "I love you, Iwa-chan!"

He'd yelled at Oikawa then for “being cheesy," but at the end of the day, Iwaizumi had taken the chocolates, and Iwaizumi had saved them forever, had only eaten them on special occasions and had stared at them longingly on regular days, like he was looking for something more from them.

Sometimes, Oikawa could smell the chocolate on his best friend, the chocolate that smelled of bitter intimacy and memories, memories that would always die as soon as one of them did, and one of them would, because good things always, always come to an end, no matter how much one battles for happiness. 

And it was a battle between Oikawa and Death, back then, a battle for a man by the name of Hajime who was everything everyone needed, with his strong and stable attitude, with his originality, and the one trait that every human has: vulnerability.

It shone out particularly for Hajime; you could smell how the smallest thing could make him crack under pressure.

But Oikawa, he hid his feelings under a mask of false smiles, and broken promises, lies of a happy future.

Oikawa deserves death, more than Hajime did back, and yet Death smells of fear, and of hatred, and not at all the kind of thing Oikawa Tooru is used to, and so of course it took pity on him, the shining gold boy who everyone would give up the world for, but Oikawa never deserved that.

And now Oikawa Tooru is at the graveyard, and it smells like regret, of sadness, of lost memories, and maybe a little bit like the chocolate Hajime and Tooru would share as they talked of the things they talked of, aliens, volleyball, bugs.

(And now that has been taken away from them, and the box of chocolates is empty.)

 

II. Taste

Oikawa Tooru has a bad taste in his mouth.

He is not sure whether it comes from standing in the place of the dead, or perhaps it comes from thinking of Hajime, Hajime who's body will rot soon, who's soul will die soon as well, because nothing, nothing, nothing lasts forever, and Hajime, every small piece of his remains, they will slowly disappear, and people will forget.

Oikawa Tooru will not forget, because he will forever be reminded by the fact that he will never smile, not a true smile, not again.

Forever, meaning the rest of his life. There is no such thing as forever. Even the best things come to an end. The universe as a whole has an expiration date.

Oikawa sinks to his knees, and takes something out of his pocket, an edible flower that he and his best friend would eat as children.

Oikawa had said it tasted bitter; Iwaizumi had said it tasted sweet; polar opposites who both hid behind masks.

But everyone's taste is different, of course, of course, and yet just that small difference seemed to symbolize the fact that Oikawa was the one with mixed up morals and ideas of the world, while Iwaizumi was the one who saw the world through pink glasses, who would tell Oikawa to stop when Oikawa needed to stop because, oh god, Oikawa couldn't hurt himself or that would break so many others. 

To onlookers, Iwaizumi was the beast, and Oikawa continues to be the beauty, but their taste buds said otherwise, and who is Oikawa to contradict the fact that TO TASTE IS TO TRUST?

Oikawa Tooru has a bad taste in his mouth as he puts the flower by Iwaizumi Hajime's name, because this is living, breathing proof that Iwaizumi is gone. He’s there. He’s buried under the earth, never to return.

Oikawa Tooru has always trusted his instincts, and his instincts tell him that Iwaizumi is gone for good; to heaven, to hell, or maybe there is not a single place in the universe that people go to after death, maybe Iwaizumi is well and truly...only a dead body.

A dead body is not a person, but a thing.

Iwaizumi Hajime is not a thing, is he? Was he?

Oikawa Tooru swallows.

The taste in his mouth is hardly there anymore because facing reality is something Oikawa Tooru is all too good at, something he’s had to do far too many times in his short life so far.

He stands up, and breathes out.

He catches a whiff of sorrow, and the bad taste is back.

 

III. Hear

There is buzzing in Oikawa Tooru's ears. He feels like he's been to hell and back, not to his best friend's graveyard, but he knows something: he hadn't been ready to face the realisation that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead, dead like so many people.

It dazes Oikawa, the fact that so many families are losing their children, and that so many friends are losing the person who is, in turn, their Iwaizumi.

And yet he's still alone. He still feels alone, though he is not, and he only realises why a few seconds later.

He can hear a song. It's not there, not for real, of course, of course, but Oikawa Tooru can hear it. He can hear the song Iwaizumi tried to teach him on the piano. 

"Everyone plays the piano, Assikawa," had said the spiker with raised eyebrows.

"I don't," Oikawa had whined. "Iwa-chan, you're a jailer!" 

And he'd tried to escape, and Iwaizumi had pulled him back and said, "At least listen, dumbass. It's called Fur Elise.”

And Oikawa'd watched, entranced, as Iwaizumi's hands swiftly on the notes, and he heard, heard not only sounds, but emotion.

He heard happiness, and it’s something that will never come again, because Hajime is dead and Oikawa was too stubborn to learn the piano and how he wishes that wasn’t a crucial character trait of his.

He doesn't plan on listening to it on YouTube. No way. That won't be the same, never, never, never, because Oikawa can't close his eyes and know that it the person he's in love with who's playing, his best friend who stopped him from hurting himself at the most crucial times, a best friend who would stop him from hurting his kouhai, a best friend who saved Oikawa from all the demons in the universe, and it’s just that Iwaizumi was the kid from the playground who stomped on people’s fingers but used his own to create art, and playing the piano, he was more of an artist than Picasso could ever be.

Oikawa Tooru looks up at the sky. Has Iwaizumi's soul drifted up there by now? Is it gone now, for forever, never to be heard of again? 

It is times like this, where Oikawa Tooru kind of wishes that ghosts existed, but he has long since stopped hoping for a solution to every problem.

And Oikawa Tooru can still hear a buzzing in his ears, the remains of a song Fur Elise, a song that Iwaizumi Hajime played, only days, only weeks ago.

Death comes.

 

IV. See

The sky is blue.

Humans insist that they're right, that the sky is blue, that they couldn't possibly be wrong, because that's what they see, that's what they see, so they can't be wrong.

Dogs see in shades of grey.

Oikawa Tooru sees in shades of grey too.

Oikawa did not used to see in grey, but as Iwaizumi's face faded, so did the colours of the rainbow, so did sunshine and rain and everything that makes life is slowly leaving.

Oikawa's happiness, after all, was in the things he saw, and now everything seems so very, very bland without a certain spiky haired meanie who secretly cared, and secretly did everything to ensure that Oikawa was okay, at all times. 

Ah, pathetic, how the only thing that ensures that Oikawa's happiness is Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi who he can't see anymore, because his body - a thing - is deep underground, while his soul is who-knows-where.

Iwaizumi, who was such a bright one, who everyone saw as the moon, but Iwaizumi was far more of a sun, than Oikawa Tooru was, because Oikawa Tooru is only there to be there.  
The Sun can live without the Moon, but the Moon probably cannot live without the Sun.

(But the Sun dies every single night to let the Moon breathe.)

- 

Everyone calls Oikawa Tooru pretty.

Oikawa IS pretty. Oikawa, with his bright, false smile, and his beautiful body, and with his chocolate curls, Oikawa Tooru who will wink at the crowd, and make them all squeal.

Oikawa Tooru who cries, so often, who's tears have had to be wiped away by Iwaizumi Hajime, time after time, time after time.

"You're such an ugly crier, you know that?”

“You’re the best person ever, Iwa-chan.”

(Oikawa doesn't cry often. Only ever with Iwaizumi, only ever.) 

His tears are truly not such a pretty sight to the human eye, though his fangirls would worship them.

Everyone loves to know that beautiful people are vulnerable. It makes them feel good about themselves, because everyone is at least a little bit messed up in the head.

Perfection far from exists.

And yet, to Oikawa, Iwaizumi was perfect. Iwaizumi, who never tried to hide behind a mask, who would let himself break down when he needed to, Iwaizumi Hajime, who was an open book to no one but the person he’d known since they were children.

If Oikawa was a book, it would be a mess of scribbles, of tears, of moments spent working under a sun, or in a massive gym, it would be fake smiles and girls and realising he likes boys, and three quarters of it would be about Iwaizumi, and how Iwaizumi helped him through the hardest things and thinking about it now, it’s like Iwaizumi was his therapist. 

If Iwaizumi never existed, by now, Oikawa would be broken all over.

Iwaizumi doesn't exist, and so Oikawa is going to break, all over. Oikawa is going to be hurt.

Oikawa is always hurt; by that beautiful girl with the whitish blonde who stood him up on a coffee date because even if he didn't like her, he thought she liked him, he is hurt by prodigies who never practice and yet always manage to surpass Oikawa's skills, and by animals who run from him, and he is hurt when Iwaizumi is hurt, because they are one, but they are also opposites.

 Oikawa Tooru can't see beyond pain. It's not second nature for him; in fact, the thing most natural to him is getting used to pain.

When Oikawa leaves home to go travel, he won't get homesick if Iwaizumi comes with him, because Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi is home, Iwaizumi with his comforts, and his piano, and the beautiful, visible vulnerability he radiates.

Gone.

Oikawa won't see beautiful things any longer.

 

V. Touch

Oikawa Tooru didn't touch the gravestone.

It revolts him, the thought of touching something with something else decaying below it. Perhaps that makes him a bad person, but he thinks it would only hurt him.

He would have dived into the land of memories, and he would have started to remember how they would reach for each other's hands in scary situations. They've always enjoyed the feel of each other's touch. Oikawa describes Iwaizumi's touch as comfortable, homely. Iwaizumi described Oikawa's hold as fierce, protective. 

They'd look each other, they'd laugh, and the tension would break, but their hands stayed firmly clasped together; lovers who come to tragic ends touch so intimately but Hajime and Tooru were no lovers. They were best friends who loved each other so, so much, more than teenagers in love would. A quote that few humans know is, “relationships are whatever, but friends are forever.” Oikawa could care less about his various girlfriends, but Hajime was half of his existence, and Oikawa would never want to ruin that, no matter how he may have felt about Hajime.

Hajime Iwaizumi matured so much faster than Oikawa, or maybe it wasn't so; maybe it was the exact opposite. You could say that Oikawa faced up to problems like an older person, while Hajime stuck in the past, fearful of what could lie ahead, what would happen with he and his friend.

But through it all, they would hold hands, stare up at the stars because that was what such childish friends would do.

They so enjoyed each other's warmth.

Now, Oikawa is cold, despite the shining Sun, because the sun has lost its effect. Iwaizumi is true happiness, Iwaizumi's touch, Iwaizumi's love. Iwaizumi's smile, Iwaizumi's frown, Hajime's emotions, Tooru's emotions.

Touch, touch, touch, they would hold each other so often and yet not enough, because they never would expect this ending, this abrupt ending with one Iwaizumi Hajime who died in pain, this abrupt ending with one Oikawa Tooru who lives on in pain, because it was Iwaizumi's touch, Iwaizumi's feeling that was truly important.

Ah, how intimacy ends, with Oikawa Tooru holding back tears as he always does, because he and his best friend did not touch enough to make up for the future.

Scent — Iwaizumi's smell is gone; it left with Hajime, and the chocolate box smells only of dust, it will forever smell only of dust.

Taste? The taste of Iwaizumi is gone too, in his hurry to decay under the ground. He probably smells and tastes of pure dirt at this point. 

Hearing…just the sound of Iwaizumi would've been enough, Iwaizumi playing the piano with affectionate murmurs, murmurs and promises of, "Assikawa, let’s be friends forever” which maybe one day could've turned into, "Assikawa, I'm in love with you."

As for seeing, Oikawa cannot see the world as beautiful as he did when he was a kid, because sight is a privilege, and Oikawa has no more privileges in a world without his grip on Iwaizumi's hair, as they cried and laughed and stared at each other, because they are beautiful.

(They are so beautiful.)

And touch, the final, and perhaps the most important sense, that is gone as well. They cannot hold hands, not anymore. Oikawa can hardly feel Iwaizumi's warmth, now, after so long. He can hardly even feel the ball he would so often toss to the ace...it's gone. 

It left with Hajime.

 

VI. Remember

The human mind is such a very strange thing. After many years of things happening, it can still hold the memories.

But the human mind will only remember things that are special to it. It will probably not remember what you had for dinner last week on Wednesday, unless that was your birthday, unless your best friend brought you a cake that had, “Happy birthday, dumbass, I love you" written on it in shaky icing.

Oikawa Tooru remembers getting a cake somewhat like that from Iwaizumi, he can remember gushes of "oh, Iwa-chan!" and mumbles of "shut up” in response.

There were happy tears.

Tooru can remember that moment, last July, hugs and promises and tears.

He can remember getting a pet bird for his birthday back when he turned 13, and for some reason, Oikawa would never take time out of life with Iwaizumi to play with the bird.

The bird died a year later. Oikawa hadn't given it enough attention or love.

Oikawa didn't cry. He didn't know his bird well enough.

Iwaizumi cried, though. He cared about animals so much more than Oikawa, and Oikawa had to wrap his hands around his best friend, and say “It's only an animal...we have each other.”

Those words, they stopped Iwaizumi's flow of tears, and he offered a small smile to Oikawa.

If it was Oikawa, that smile, that smile would've been fake, but Iwaizumi was never one to act.

Oikawa can remember that one time after the fateful match with Karasuno; Iwa-chan had cried and Oikawa had had to bite his lip harder than usual.

They'd headed back to Oikawa's house, and Oikawa had comforted Iwaizumi. "We can play professionally, Iwa-chan,” he’d said through his own bittersweet tears. “We can live forever."

"I'll spike the rest of your tosses," Iwaizumi had vowed.

"I'll work on receiving," said Oikawa softly. "Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

The memory clearest in Oikawa's mind is when he heard his friend had a terminal illness, a word that starts with the letter _C_ that none of them ever dared to say.

It isn't a happy memory; it's a memory that will keep him up for many weeks, hearing the doctor saying “I'm sorry, sir,” remembering how Iwaizumi looked so scared when he was usually calm and stable. Oikawa is the wild one after all, but somehow, he's also the one who bottles his emotions.

And now, Oikawa has to walk on, continue his journey back to his house (not home, never home, because nowhere is home without Hajime), look up at the grey sky, smell Iwa-chan in the box of chocolates and sit down in a chair, stare up at the ceiling, remembering sweet, lovely times, promises that were not broken intentionally.

Maybe he will even cry a little bit. Just to keep sane.


End file.
